Kill Wang Bao, Shanyin Art

The commotion outside drew the two gang members closer as they called out cautiously:

"Leader Wang, what's going on in there?"

Wang Bao waved a hand impatiently. "Nothing. Get lost, both of you."

"Heh heh, got it. We'll make ourselves scarce..."

The two outside snickered lecherously, knowing Wang Bao's temperament well—they could guess exactly what was about to happen between Zhao Han and him.

"They're gone. Are you taking it off yourself, or should I do it for you?" Wang Bao stood up, rubbing his hands together as he eyed Zhao Han with ill intent.

Li Dalong liked smooth-skinned young men. His older brother Wang Hu preferred slender-waisted beauties.

But Wang Bao was different.

He liked men with a build and skin tone similar to his own.

And Zhao Han fit the bill perfectly.

Wheat-colored skin, lean, average height.

"Fine, I'll do it myself." Zhao Han tossed the cleaver aside, already passing a death sentence on Wang Bao in his mind.

He hadn't expected that in this chaotic world, with women nowhere to be found, Wang Bao would be so desperate he'd even go after his own kind.

Wang Bao's grin grew wider. The cleaver was gone—clearly Zhao Han was completely submitting. Tonight was going to be a good night.

"Then I'll start undressing... Screw you!"

Zhao Han turned slowly, presenting his back to Wang Bao, then suddenly spun around, flinging a handful of lime powder and splashing the water from his canteen.

"Ah, what do you think you're doing? Trying to blind me?"

The lime caught Wang Bao in the face. His eyes stung fiercely, and his skin began to burn.

Realizing he'd been ambushed with lime, he scrambled backward, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve.

"Die!"

Zhao Han immediately struck with Snake-Style Deft Hand, his fingers pressed together like a serpent's head, stabbing toward Wang Bao.

"You—you've actually trained Snake-Style Deft Hand to the fourth layer? That's impossible!"

Wang Bao's vision cleared slightly, and when he saw Zhao Han's fierce, overbearing strikes, his expression shifted.

This was no newly promoted Elite Gang Member—this was a hidden powerhouse.

"Bam bam bam..."

The two exchanged blows and counters with Snake-Style Deft Hand. Wang Bao was instantly overwhelmed by Zhao Han's rapid assault, barely managing to parry.

As his body grew hotter, Wang Bao felt worse and worse.

Blisters had started forming on parts of his skin.

If not for his thick hide and high pain tolerance, he'd already be rolling on the ground.

"Hiding your strength, eh? Heh heh heh, but you're no match for me. Watch my Black Wolf Fist!" Wang Bao suddenly sneered and unleashed Black Wolf Fist.

Zhao Han was startled. He hadn't expected Wang Bao to know Black Wolf Fist.

And it seemed to be at the fourth layer.

"Surprised, aren't you? I practiced this in secret, just to frame the Black Wolf Gang." Wang Bao revealed his scheme.

He'd trained in Black Wolf Fist specifically to pin the blame on the Black Wolf Gang—that was why Li Dalong valued him so much.

"Looks like I'll have to take your pants off myself after all. Black Wolf Gouges Heart!" Wang Bao sneered, throwing a vicious punch.

"You think you're the only one who knows it? I do too!"

Zhao Han scoffed, meeting the blow with his own master-level Black Wolf Fist.

"Bam!"

Both stepped back. Wang Bao's face was shocked.

"How? No way. Absolutely impossible. You've trained in both Black Wolf Fist and Snake-Style Deft Hand?"

"Nothing's impossible. Die!"

Zhao Han charged forward again, trading blows with Wang Bao.

Wang Bao struggled to keep up.

Seizing an opening, Zhao Han pulled a knife from his spatial storage and drove it into Wang Bao's throat.

Blood immediately seeped from the wound.

"Ghh... ghh..." Wang Bao's face twisted in terror. The blood blocked his vocal cords and windpipe, leaving him unable to speak. He stumbled toward the tent's entrance.

Zhao Han wouldn't let him escape. He lunged forward and punched him in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

Then he dragged him to the center of the tent.

But the blisters all over his body and the searing pain in his throat jolted Wang Bao awake again.

"Die!"

A single knife thrust straight into Wang Bao's heart, piercing it clean through. Wang Bao's eyes bulged wide as his legs and arms thrashed against the ground.

In the end, he died with his eyes open.

He never expected to be killed by a nobody like Zhao Han.

Zhao Han had just let out a sigh of relief when he was startled to see wisps of black smoke seeping out from the face of Wang Bao's corpse.

The smoke then floated in midair, condensing into a skull shape, and flew out through the tent's single layer of fabric.

Zhao Han's face twisted in terror: "That's... a ghost!"

No one understood the horror of these ghosts better than him.

Back when he had transmigrated and become a farmer, fleeing along the road, Zhao Han had witnessed the terror of ghosts firsthand.

Lesser Ghosts were troublesome, Medium Ghosts could slaughter a city, and Great Weirds could end the world.

Even an ordinary Lesser Ghost, if it latched onto you, left even Skin Refining Realm martial artists barely able to defend themselves. Only those at the Muscle Refining Realm had some power to resist, let alone ordinary people.

"But it doesn't seem like a ghost. More like... a soul," Zhao Han said in surprise.

What background did this Wang Bao have? How could he be entangled with ghosts?

And what about Wang Hu? Li Dalong?

Connecting recent events with the occasional disappearances of mine slaves, Zhao Han couldn't stop shivering.

This Poison Dragon Hall—he couldn't stay here a moment longer.

Joining a gang brought no blessings; it was all deceptive ghost talk. One wrong move and your life was gone.

Still shaken, Zhao Han peeled back a tiny corner of the tent and looked outside. No one had noticed anything unusual.

Even the two gate-guarding gang members were chatting far away.

Since that was the case, he wouldn't hold back.

"I need to get out of the mine fast."

"That Wang Bao was plenty treacherous, secretly cultivating Black Wolf Fist at a higher level than Snake-Style Deft Hand. Lucky I didn't let my guard down and brought lime powder, or I'd have capsized in a ditch."

Zhao Han immediately began looting the corpse.

Eight taels of silver.

One identity token.

One copy of Snake-Style Deft Hand.

One copy of Black Wolf Fist.

And a black leather-bound manual called the Shanyin Art.

"Shanyin Art... the name sounds ominous, like it's tied to ghosts."

Zhao Han picked up the Shanyin Art and flipped through it.

[Ghostly Path detected, scanning...]

The system suddenly spoke, and Zhao Han froze. Ghostly Path? What was that?

Martial Artist: Zhao Han

Realm: Skin Refining

Martial Arts: Black Wolf Fist, Snake-Style Deft Hand

Ghostly Path: Shanyin Art [Unsimplified, Low-Grade]

Simplified: Black Wolf Fist [Simplified, Unranked, Mastery 750/1000, Practice Black Wolf Fist 1000 times]

Snake-Style Deft Hand [Simplified, Unranked, Mastery 0/1000, Kill a python (at least eight meters long, arm-thick)]

"Ghostly Path? Shanyin Art? Low-Grade? It's actually a Low-Grade technique!"

Zhao Han was stunned. A Low-Grade technique?

Was this a joke?

A Low-Grade technique could reach the Organ Refining Realm at its peak.

What level was Organ Refining? Consider this: the gang leaders of the Poisonous Snake Gang and the Black Wolf Gang were formidable enough to rule supreme over Blackwater County, their word law.

And they were barely at the Bone Refining Realm, just managing to defend themselves against some Lesser Ghosts.

Compared to the Organ Refining Realm, they weren't even in the same league.

If a Low-Grade technique appeared in Blackwater County, people would probably kill each other to get their hands on it.

[Simplifying a Low-Grade technique requires One Hundred Taels of Silver]

He naturally didn't have the silver. The Shanyin Art was something he could look at but not touch.

Zhao Han vaguely guessed that Wang Bao's soul had fled, and it was definitely tied to this Shanyin Art.